The Year of the Martlet

Robin Marlar

Founded in faraway 1839, Sussex is the oldest of the county cricket clubs.
But boy, have we been late developers! In the first season, all the matches
were lost. Never mind the sea fret at Hove - there was a pall of gloom for
164 years and certainly for the 112 years from 1890, the official start of the
County Championship, until 2002.

That was all part of local folklore. Now the discussion has gone from
macro to micro: disputing the exact time. At some time between 1.43 p.m.
and 1.45 p.m. on September 18, but definitely after lunch on the second day
of the last match against lowly Leicestershire, Murray Goodwin, prolific
opening batsman from Zimbabwe via Australia, pulled the boundary which
took Sussex to the 300 mark, and their sixth bonus point of the game. This
put them beyond the reach of their last challengers for the 2003 County
Championship, Lancashire, who had thrashed Sussex in the previous match
at Old Trafford. Talk about frayed nerves! It looked as though the fat lady
had forgotten to turn up.

Thanks to the generous forbearance of their visitors, play was held up for
no fewer than eight minutes' rejoicing. Celebrations were instantaneous,
wholehearted and prolonged. It was a privilege to be present, especially
among so many fellow old sweats. It was a masterstroke to bring down the
105-strong Christ's Hospital marching band, boys and girls, on that last day.
It was necessary, too, because the tape of that stirring song, "Sussex By The
Sea", was all but worn through. Even now the memory of the blue cassocks
and yellow stockings striding the outfield and the crowd singing the chorus

You may tell them all
That we stand or fall,
For Sussex by the sea

can bring a tear to a rheumy old eye. On the next day, handicapped by a
collective hangover which only a club with its own pub could generate,
Sussex went on to win by an innings, and finish 34 points clear of the field.
This was a ready riposte to clever dicks, especially from old rivals Kent,
who publicly doubted whether Sussex were the rightful winners.

On no fewer than seven occasions, the Martlets have been second:
bridesmaids may share the excitement, the occasion and a slice of cake, but
next day they are back where they were. This time, Sussex made it to
Buckingham Palace, where by long-established practice, they received their
medals from the Duke of Edinburgh, a talented batsman in his day (he hit
me for six, anyway) before polo called. It was a double triumph too, because
the Sussex women's team also became champions for the first time, and
they came to the palace together on a coach from Hove, arriving late enough to qualify both teams for bread and water in the dungeon. (Yorkshire also
copped both titles in 2001, we discovered - and their coach was even later.)
Whatever view you may take of tradition and ceremonial, it was very special
to those who had never come close to honours before - not least because
so many of those associated with winning the title were already planning
the encore.

It had seemed a distant prospect six years earlier, after half a dozen top
players had walked out. A sporting banker called Jim May heard me tut-tutting on telly and rang me up to inform me that, as I had got a big mouth,
I had better join him to do something about it. Meanwhile, Tony Pigott, a
former stalwart but then at Surrey, was canvassing support for Sussex 2000,
which successfully ousted the old committee at the AGM.

At that stage, just stopping the rot, trying to avoid bottom place, was a
noble enough ambition. But Pigott and Peter Moores, the executive and
captain who were obliged to sort out this mess, were - believe me - not
merely dreaming of the Championship but working towards it. Top of the
wish list was a new, imported skipper, whose arrival would be a symbol of
change. A magnet for others, he would be a recognisable leader to bright
young things emerging through the development programme.

It was a Benson and Hedges final that made it obvious that Chris Adams
was a future captain of somebody. A class act is easily spotted. In 1993,
there had been a fuss over ball-tampering in a county match, and when
Derbyshire squared up to Lancashire at Lord's, Wasim Akram let go a beamer
from the pavilion end that hit Adams on the shoulder. Intentional or not
(and the umpire thought it was), words were exchanged at lunch, Adams
not mincing his. He exuded spirit all day. It was the quality most needed
on our precious acres. Four years later, we recruited him and never regretted
it, even though some thin years still followed. Whatever the results, he
brought a glimmer of hope because people wanted to play for him; the spirit
and attitude in the club were transformed.

There were times even in 2003 when Sussex reverted to collapse mode.
But the collapses became uncharacteristic. The team's mettle was most visible
in the crucial ninth win against Middlesex, when Sussex, facing 392, were
107 for six. A locally bred star, Matthew Prior, together with the South
African Mark Davis, batting at Nos 7 and 8, saved Sussex with huge innings,
and in the process demoralised their old bank holiday rivals. Then Mushtaq
Ahmed bowled them out on his way to his 100th wicket.

He was the signing that made all the difference. A match-winner hungry
for more and more five and ten-wicket hauls, he was given extra motivation
by trading wickets for cash, a feature of cricket even before Sussex were
founded. Once given the ball, he was reluctant to let it go. Wonderful to
captain, said Adams. Mushtaq had bowled like that when he destroyed
England at The Oval in 1996: now he was back to his best. So was James
Kirtley, who should have been picked by England when Sussex were in the
doldrums. In the final game, Leicestershire were bowled out by another local
stalwart who had lived through the bad times, Jason Lewry. By then Mushtaq,
like the king in the nursery rhyme, was in the counting house counting out
his money - prior to an unexpected resumption of his Test career.

What took Sussex so long? It is possible to argue that they were champion
county before everyone else had woken up. That was what I used to hear
from George Washer - gas fitter and scorer, a hard man withal, who could
continue talking non-stop without ever losing the fag from his lower lip.
He insisted Sussex had been champions, according to his equivalent of
Duckworth/Lewis, in the 1870s, and took on the formidable Major Rowland
Bowen on this subject.

Certainly, they twice came second in Edwardian times, with Fry and Ranji.
Then there were three in a row during the frustrating 1930s: in late July
1934, they looked almost certain to be champions, but only won one game
out of the last 12. "Short of being a really tip-top team," sniffed Wisden.
I was personally convinced we were going to win in 1953, David Sheppard's
year, until Rupert Webb missed a vital catch behind the stumps at Hastings
against Yorkshire. There may be an element of bias here since I was bowling
at the time, and had turned an off-break away from the left-hander, Vic
Wilson. Anyway, Webb went on to play the father of one of the brides in
Four Weddings and a Funeral, which some might think constitutes greater
glory than any Championship.

In 1981, when John Barclay led arguably the strongest Sussex team, they
maddeningly failed to take the last Nottinghamshire wicket in a match which
pitted Imran Khan and Garth le Roux against Richard Hadlee and Clive
Rice. Afterwards, there was a spirited row about over-rates.

Looking at so many distinguished names, it is clear that Sussex have never
lacked for style. That elusive quality is, happily, endemic at Hove. But
perhaps Sussex have not always played primarily to win. That, historically,
might be the difference between the "southron folk" and the northerners.
Why play if not to win? For fun; for friendship; for experience; to explore.

When Chris Adams gave his victor's speech, he said: "We wanted it more
than any of the others." He was also kind enough to say that he wanted to
share his triumph with all those who had gone before. But perhaps in the
past Sussex have not wanted it quite enough. The truth is that only this team
has deserved today's congratulations: "Well done, lads."

Robin Marlar was captain of Sussex from 1955 to 1959 and chairman from
1997 to 2000. He was cricket correspondent of the Sunday Times from 1970
to 1996.

ABOUT COOKIES

We use cookies to help make this website better, to improve our services and for advertising purposes. You can learn more about our use of cookies and change your browser settings in order to avoid cookies by clicking here. Otherwise, we'll assume you are OK to continue.